


you've got a face with a view

by slimelupine



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Martin Blackwood, Autistic Tim Stoker, M/M, Martim Week 2021 (The Magnus Archives), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Kink, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimelupine/pseuds/slimelupine
Summary: “Flirting is compliments, so I get that. Though you do get awfully flustered when I throw them at you. Almost like they mean a little bit more than just regular compliments.”“Well, you’re--I mean, you, um. You’re hot. You know that. So when they come from you it’s just...I, I don’t know. It feels different.”“And that’s flirting.”“Oh. Ohhh.”“Yeah, yeah, there you go. Bit of a formula to it.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59
Collections: Martim Week 2021





	you've got a face with a view

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: Size Kink
> 
> I don't write NSFW very often but! I really liked the NSFW prompts for this week so I decided I would be posting a few!
> 
> I'm still pretty new to writing NSFW so I'm sorry if it's not great ahhh. ;w; But it was nice to write! I kind of wrote this at first just projecting as much as I could onto Martin with regards to autism but as I wrote it I sort of ended up leaning more into how Tim's autism interacts with his sex life too and honestly I like how this came out!
> 
> Absolutely in love with Tumblr user hotjonrights' idea that Tim has a neon sign with his name above his bed so I had to include it here fhghhghg. >W<

Martin wasn’t too sure why he was here, in a very crowded and loud pub with Tim. Being out this late wasn’t really something he fancied, never mind being in a place that seemed determined to overstimulate every one of his major senses. Maybe a few more, previously undiscovered senses, because it made Martin feel a special kind of overstimulated. 

Tim had dragged him along with himself and Sasha after work, insisting Martin come along after having a hard day. They usually invited him, really, and Martin very often declined. He knew Tim and Sasha were close, and didn’t want to get between their friendship. A part of him worried it was pity, that they thought he had nothing better to do. It wasn't that, not really; Martin just didn't like changes in his schedule. 

But Tim was right, it _had_ been a hard day, and Jon had been harder on him than usual. Criticism in itself was hard to hear coming from Jon, but worse than that was the general fear that he might get it again. It made him jumpy, made it impossible for him to relax for the entire work day. The combination of anxiety and the suspicion that he was doing something wrong and would get fired made the rest of the day a nightmare. At least around Tim, Martin didn’t feel like he had to hide anything. He trusted Tim, enough he felt he could relax around him. Not to mention, Tim was distracting enough through both looks and behavior that Martin could keep his mind off of stewing in anxiety for a while. 

While being around helped, though, the current environment was getting to be too much. Sasha had left maybe a quarter of an hour ago, and Martin was beginning to think he’d had enough as well. He didn’t want to go, not entirely. Tim was at least keeping his mind off of other things. He and Tim had stopped talking for a moment, so Tim could check his phone and so Martin could be quiet for a minute. Martin felt Tim’s eyes on him from behind, and turned to look at Tim from across the table. Tim didn’t have his shirt properly buttoned (the old “two buttons minimum” rule for a night out at the pub), and he had that languid, vaguely amused expression on his face. The one he usually had on when he wasn't saying something on purpose. Martin titled his head a little.

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, handsome.” Tim winked and wove his fingers together. 

“What?”

“Him over there,” Tim gestured with his head to a man at one of the pub stools, “he’s been checking you out since he got here.”

“Oh. Uh. You mean like, like in an interested way?”

“No, Martin, in a thirsty vampire like way where he’s gonna lure you out and bite your neck. _Yes_ , like in an interested way. Did you not notice?”

“A little hard to,” said Martin, “it’s sort of...loud, and bright, and everything in here. I’m not really paying attention to anyone except for you, I guess. Still don't know how you're able to deal with all of the noise here.”

“Just used it it, really. I had a lot of trouble at first, but once the noise became a part of the routine in coming here..." Tim shrugged, and motioned with his head to the man he'd gestured to earlier. "Listen. You should get a drink with him. Or just chat with him, something.”

“I don’t, um,” Martin’s face heated, and he kept his gaze firmly on Tim’s hands, interlocked together, “I don’t really...do that? With total strangers? It’s, um. Well, I mean, I get why people do it. People have asked to buy me drinks before, I, I know why they’re doing it, and it’s not that I’ve never found them attractive, I just...well, it’s just a bit odd for me. I don’t really know how to talk to them, especially when they just...came at me out of nowhere, you know?”

“It’s called small talk.”

“Y-yeah, I know. And it’s hard. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to someone who just came up to me like that. Like I’m not, I’m not _surprised_ , I know what I look like and it’s happened enough. And it’s flattering, I just, I don’t really do that with people I don’t know. I, ah, I’ve never really had the time and energy for dating, so it’s not like it could really go anywhere even if we somehow made a connection. And I really don’t know how you can take someone you hardly know home with you if you’re just...y’know. For the night. I mean, what if they don’t even know your name? And never learn it?”

“Neon sign with your name usually takes care of that.”

“What?”

“Exactly what I said. Hey, look, if you don’t wanna talk to him, that’s cool. Just thought I’d let you know you have an admirer.”

“Thanks.” Martin gave Tim a weary smile.

Tim gave Martin a wry smile, and then leaned forwards. “Hey. Question.”

“Yeah?”

“What about people you do know?”

“Well, I mean...sure? It’s...I haven’t really had a lot of people, let alone people I’d...consider being with, but I...I guess if we knew each other it’d be a lot easier. Why?”

“‘Cause you know me.” Tim winked again, and it was irksomely charming. 

Martin’s face heated and he sighed, leaning into the booth in a bit of a huff. “Tim, come on.”

“What?”

“What’re you suggesting?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Martin. What could I _possibly_ be suggesting? You’re incredibly handsome. I can see the face you’re about to make, what you're about to say, and I’m going to stop you there. I’m not joking around here. I love flirting with you. Your face starts burning up the moment I start talking. Never met someone so easy to fluster. You should know it _only_ serves to encourage me.”

“You’re...sorry, you’re flirting with me?” Martin was flustered, and knew his face gave it away, and he hated it. He could feel the heat in his face, knew _exactly_ how he looked, and Tim was giving him a smug smile that looked like it wouldn’t fade for ages.

“Yes,” Tim rolled his eyes and laughed, “oh my god, _yes_ , Martin, I’m flirting with you. I flirt with you all the time. What did you think I was doing?”

“I, um...well, I don’t know. I don’t really know what flirting sounds like, if I’m being honest. It’s hard to tell the difference between them and compliments sometimes. Context makes it easier, I-I guess, like when someone comes up to me at a pub, but...I don't know. I don’t ever want to jump to conclusions, so I, well, I try not to look too much into them. It's not that I'm surprised, I just...I did't want to think you were flirting me in case you weren't. I thought you were just complimenting me.”

“Flirting _is_ compliments, so I get that. Though you do get awfully flustered when I throw them at you. Almost like they mean a little bit more than just regular compliments.”

“Well, you’re--I mean, you, um. You’re hot. You _know_ that. So when they come from you it’s just...I, I don’t know. It feels different.”

“And _that’s_ flirting.”

“Oh. Ohhh.”

“Yeah, yeah, there you go. Bit of a formula to it.”

Martin looked at Tim, his face thoroughly flushed and his eyes wide. He swallowed, a little thickly and crossed his arms. “And you...mean it." Wow."

Tim grinned, fiddling with his third button. “Oh, yeah. You’re handsome. And it’s not every day I meet a guy a fair head taller than me, so that’s a huge plus.”

“I don’t think I’m that much taller than you, actually.”

“You’re still taller, with a handsome face and a better sense of humor than you give yourself credit for.”

Martin’s face colored, and he covered his eyes under his glasses. He was smiling, widely, he knew he was, and he could feel Tim smiling back at him. He would've loved to be able to blame it on alcohol, but neither him nor Tim had had all that much to drink. Martin peered at Tim from between his fingers. “You know how true that is for yourself, too."

“I do, but I’ll graciously allow you to indulge me even more.”

“You have a nice smile. And--your arms, they’re um, they’re nice to look at. It’s--I like watching you carry heavy boxes full of statements. It looks like it doesn’t take much for you to carry them...”

“Not one bit of effort. Look at you. You're not that bad at flirting."

Martin swallowed, and then looked at Tim, who only shook his head and smiled. He stood up, slid over to the booth Martin was in, and pressed himself a little closer. Martin breathed in, eyebrows raised. He knew how much color was in his face, how hot he probably felt, how he was shaking a little. Tim didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed to like it. Martin swore, swore, his heartbeat was audible from where Tim was sitting.

“Martin,” said Tim, centimeters away from closing the gap between them, a warm smile on his round face, “can I kiss you? That okay?”

Martin blinked. The answer was ready in his throat, but be bit his lip. “Y-you...I mean, it won’t--won’t be weird? Since we work together? I-I--I mean, I--I want to, I do, I just--you really want to? ”

“I can’t tell you how much I want to. Really. And I’ve kissed plenty of people I work with before. I can tell you with Stoker-guaranteed certainty that it’s not weird, and that nothing will happen. Sasha can vouch for me.”

Martin gave a shaky breath. “You’re sure?”

“Totally sure.”

“T-then...then, yeah,” breathed Martin, nodding as he said it, “yeah, you can.”

Tim closed the space between them in a matter of seconds, weaving his arms around Martin’s shoulders and pressing their lips together. Not harshly, not with any amount of desperation. But gently, in a way that told Martin they weren’t in a rush. Martin’s hands slid to Tim’s waist, holding him in place. It wasn’t a long kiss, not long at all. It took all the time it needed to take, and it was nice. When their lips broke apart, one of Tim’s hands slid from Martin’s shoulder and cupped his cheek. Tim’s expression was soft, lazily hungry as he swiped a thumb over Martin’s cheek.

“Love this look on you.”

“Thanks. You too.”

“Hey,” murmured Tim, “would you like to come home with me?”

Martin could feel his heart racing, knowing why the question was being asked but hardly believing it. He thought about what Tim said, about flirting, about how good it all felt when someone attractive was making it clear how attractive they found you. All of that was shattering before Martin now, replaced with something so much more concrete. A question. A suggestion, really. 

“C-come home with you?”

“Mm-hmm. If you’d like.”

“Y-you really are sure it’s--?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”

“I...so, you’re saying you want--? With me? S-sorry, it’s not--I just. I, I just. For clarity’s sake. That I’m, understanding you, I guess.”

Tim leaned in close, kissing Martin’s ear. The movement was so gentle, barely touching him, and Martin shivered under Tim's lips. Tim chuckled, low and comforting. “Yes, Martin. I want to have sex with you. Can’t imagine _not_ wanting to. You’re beautiful. Funny, and enthusiastic, too. I can't tell you how much I want to.”

A small pause that lasted a few seconds, but could. Then Martin nodded.

“T-then, yeah,” breathed Martin, shivering, “yeah, I’ll come home with you.

* * *

The tube ride back to Tim’s flat had been a quiet one. Martin needed to decompress some after being at the pub for as long as he was. He spent most of it listening to one of his video game soundtrack lo-fi remixes, arms crossed and head down. It wasn’t quite the lead-up to sex that Tim usually had. No struggle to keep his hands off of Martin, no slow, subtle ripples of arousal making the entire ride an agony. And that was okay, it really was. Because it was Martin, and Tim would feel more uncomfortable with Martin overwhelming and embarrassing himself through a rather sloppy public necking session. 

Once they’d gotten to his stop, Tim had nudged Martin’s foot with his own, motioning to the door. Martin nodded and pulled out his earbuds. Martin followed Tim, sticking close to him. The walk to Tim’s flat was pretty quiet too. It wasn’t hurried, and it was a strange feeling for Tim. It wasn’t a frenzied thing, wasn’t a race to get to Tim’s flat and the nearest available surface to lay down on. He didn’t think he minded. 

The sound of Martin’s footsteps stopping made Tim turn stop and turn around. They were in the stairway, the floor below where Tim’s flat was. Martin was looking up at something near the ceiling, right under one of the dimly flickering lights in the hallway. Tim looked up and squinted, and then smiled when he saw what Martin was looking at.

“Oh, huh. That's new."

“It probably is,” said Martin, leaning back on his heels, “but it looks like a missing segment orb weaver's work? Their webs all look half-built.”

“Ah. Any chance it’ll bunker down in my flat?”

"Tim, don't _kill_ it. It's just sitting out here in it's web, I can see it."

“I'm not going to. I just wanted to know if I should leave out the dead bluebottles I find in my window.”

“Right.” Martin laughed a little. “Well, no. They’re usually outside, actually. Also, they don't have very good vision. I don't think they'd notice the bluebottles you left out. They prefer being in places they'll catch bugs in. Doesn’t mean you won’t find them around your flat, or indoors, but they prefer it out here. They usually take their web down when they move, actually.”

"Like just pack it up?"

"Sort of? They eat it."

"They...eat their web?"

"Yeah? Just recycling the materials, basically. They rebuild it later. Plus they can drink all the dew left on the webs when they eat the silk."

“Huh. Hey, so. My flat’s just up ahead--”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

Martin hurriedly followed Tim up to his flat, and Tim fumbled with the keys for a moment before holding the door open with a smile. Martin smiled back at him, a little shyly before walking into Tim’s flat and shrugging off his jacket. He looked around aimlessly for a bit as Tim closed and locked the door and removed his own coat. Martin gave a little cough, and Tim turned to look at him. 

“Yeah?”

“Sorry for being quiet on the tube.”

“Nah, don’t be. I know how you are. You’re sure you’re up for this? Don’t want to make you feel like you need to if you’re too tired.”

“I--no, no,” Martin smiled, his face flushed, “thanks. I...I do want to! I just, ah...how do you, like…?”

“Well,” Tim took a few steps forwards, and then, sliding his arms Martin’s waist, said, “I think making out might be a good start.”

“Y-yes,” said Martin, bringing his own arms to Tim’s shoulders, “I think so, too. You’re...you’re good at it. Kissing, I mean.”

“You too.” Tim gently pushed Martin backwards and guided him to the wall. His hands slid up to Martin’s face, cupping it gently the way he did at the pub. He felt Martin’s hands on his shoulders, sliding down to his chest, kneading it. Tim gave a small laugh in the back of his throat, leaning forwards and bringing his lips to Martin’s. 

Their lips met again, with a bit more force than the one they’d shared at the pub. Tim wasted no time in melting into the kiss, in memorizing with his lips and tongue how this kiss felt. Martin matched his intensity, leaning forwards a bit and sliding his hands down a little further, squeezing Tim’s hips. Tim pressed back, working his fingers into Martin’s hair now and carding through it gently. He felt Martin’s hands sliding up and down his thighs, testing the give of them, before slipping back to caress his arse. Tim moaned a little, he couldn’t help it, and tugged at Martin’s hair softly, before his hands fell from Martin’s face and down, past Martin’s hips, between his legs, don’t quite touching anything. Tim felt Martin’s hands rub up and down his arse, savoring the swell of it, and Tim felt his cock stiffen beneath his trousers. Martin was pushing Tim towards him now, holding him by the arse firmly.

Tim moaned. He fucking _loved_ this. It'd come out of nowhere, but the feeling of Martin holding him like this felt like nothing else. Martin was taller, bigger, and he was strong, holding him tightly and making Tim feel secured in place. He wriggled a little, feeling Martin press down in response, and it took effort on Tim's part to keep himself from moaning right there. Martin dragged his hands along his arse again, pressing into it again and rubbing it with one of his hands. Softly, Tim could hear making a little noise as he did so. Tim gave himself a second to right himself and his breathing before he patted Martin’s inner thigh. 

“An arse man. I don’t know what I expected.”

“You have a very nice one,” Martin’s breathing was shaky, “I-I don’t just go for anyone’s.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm. I--ah--I like it when you have tight pants on like this. I can see everything, and...i-it’s so nice to look at, the way it moves when you walk. It just stands out so much, it’s--sometimes it’s really hard not to notice.”

“So you _have_ checked me out before.”

A little snort from Martin. “Like you’re not used to it. Shut up.”

“Got me there, you cheeky thing.” Tim finally let his hand gently cup Martin between his legs, and Martin gasped and shivered. “I’ve checked you out too, you know. Can’t bloody help myself.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yes...oh, _god_ , Martin...I’ve checked out so much. Your arse, your thighs, your hands. It’s hard not to stare sometimes. The way your...your face, your neck, it’s just begging for someone to get his lips on it, to kiss you there.” Martin just gasped, cutting himself off and gripping Tim’s arse. Tim smirked, kissing Martin again before continuing. “And you’re so big, Martin. It’s so...it’s wonderful. I honestly feel like I’m being held, I almost never feel like that. I’m not a small guy, but _christ_ , neither are you. Fuck, it’s just…” Tim cut himself off, gasping, working his hips against Martin’s thigh and rubbing Martin through his trousers. He felt Martin’s erection straining into his hands as Martin whimpered above him, and Tim was struggling to breathe. He could feel Martin’s cock already, before he’d gotten him worked up. And now it was _impossible_ to miss, starting to stretch and strain in Martin’s trousers. It was as big as Martin was, _good god_ , it was as big as Martin was. Tim gave a small moan as he felt large hands slip back to his thighs again, and he leaned forwards again, kissing Martin, unable to help himself. 

Martin kissed him back, and Tim leaned back, reluctantly pulling his hands from Martin’s cock, trapped beneath the fabric of his trousers, straining as it grew fuller. Tim tugged Martin by the arms, trying to pull him away from the wall. Martin’s hands slid up to Tim’s hands, pulling them back to his cock with a small whimper, a whine, really, and holding them there. 

“K-keep...keep doing that, I-I’m so--” Martin gave a little moan, sinking into another kiss, catching Tim’s tongue. 

Tim gave a shuddering gasp at the force Martin had done this with, but pulled his hands back to Martin’s arms again. 

“Bed,” breathed Tim, pulling apart from Martin, who had starting palming at Tim restlessly, “oh, fuck, come on-- _fuck, god, Martin, come on_ \--l-let’s do this in bed.”

Tim had some trouble, moving backwards and tugging Martin with him at the same time. He felt a large hand nudge between his thighs, reaching up for him and moaning softly. It was an awkward shuffle, with his legs being pushed apart slightly as Martin swiped back and forth. Tim’s back hit the bedroom door and he struggled to open it, and gracelessly stumbled backwards. Martin’s hands came up to his chest, pushing Tim into his bed. Tim heaved a sigh, looking up at Martin, who was climbing onto the bed himself and straddling Tim between his thighs. They were thick, strong, keeping Tim firmly in place. Tim groaned, low and hungry, feeling Martin’s erection pressing into him. Tim’s own cock throbbed at this, and he reached down to where Martin was rubbing along his cock with his own hand. He pressed down, urging Martin to do more. With a small moan, Martin popped the buttons of Tim’s trousers and slid them downwards, taking Tim’s pants with them. Backing up slightly, Martin gazed down at Tim’s cock, running his tongue over his lips. The seconds between this and what came after seemed to take a lifetime, Tim’s cock straining upwards and seeking Martin, any of Martin, his hands, his mouth, his own cock. 

When Martin finally brought his mouth to Tim’s cock it felt like it took forever to get there, and the hot wetness of it was a cascading relief. Tim threw his head back and his fingers and toes curled. 

“ _Fuck_ \--oh, _god_ , Martin, yes--”

It really did feel wonderful, Martin taking him in his mouth, a little unsure at first. It was gentle at first, just gently swirling his tongue around the tip of his cock. And then somewhere Martin let himself loose a little, letting his tongue slide down his cock and over his folds, taking him all at once in his mouth and making the heat pulse through it. Tim wasn’t much of a whimperer, but he was finding himself nothing short of one as Martin took him and held him firmly down by the hips. The heat of Martin’s mouth, the sight of his big hands on his hips, the little moans and noises Martin was making as he teased at Tim’s cock with his tongue, it was just so much, and Tim thrashed a little, unable to contain himself. He felt Martin’s hands push down, keeping him in place, pressing into the flesh of his thighs. Tim wriggled again, and the resistance he met from Martin did it. Martin was just so big, bigger than he was, able to hold his thighs with just one of his hands and keep them in place. Tim’s cock gave one last valiant throb as he came in Martin’s mouth with a little whimper. 

Tim took a moment, to let the aftershocks run their course through him, before looking up at Martin. Martin was unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them down with his pants and working his way out of them. Tim’s eyes were glued to the process, watching Martin’s arse move with his body, taking in the generous curve of it, before losing all other possible thoughts when Martin turned around and Tim saw his cock. 

It was every bit as large as Tim had imagined it was. Proportionate for Martin, certainly. It was straining outwards, bobbing with his movement, flushed and heavy. Tim’s mouth fell open and he felt his face heat and a small moan gather in the back of his throat. Martin’s cock, so thick and gorgeous, heavily straining now and leaking precome. Tim wanted Martin to press into him, wanted it to almost be a struggle to press in, for no amount of preparation to prepare Tim for the stretch of it. 

“Martin” breathed Tim, watching Martin’s face color and cock twitch, “Martin, do you--”

“Oh! U-um--” Martin’s cock moved with Martin, and the way Martin’s movement seemed almost impeded by it made Tim’s cock start to stiffen again. “Ah, well, do you?”

“I--I have a strap if you’re not up to it. I just---fuck, Martin, come here. You’re beautiful.”

Martin’s face heated, and he slid forwards, pulling his shirt off in the process and then unbuttoning Tim’s in front of him. He tossed the shirt off the bed, and then made an effort to straddle Tim like he had before, but this time with his cock pressed firmly in the middle of Tim’s chest, resting comfortably behind his tits. 

“O-oh--” Martin moaned, softly, “Tim. You’re beautiful too.” 

The effort that it took Tim to not just take Martin right there, lick and suck and swallow him and lose all composure right there, was monumental. Martin’s thighs tightened around Tim’s chest, and he leaned forwards, pressing his lips against Tim’s and moaning softly. Tim growled, his hands reaching up to Martin’s love handles and squeezing them, feeling Martin’s body around him, everywhere, feeling positively enveloped by him. He kissed Martin back, sucking on his tongue and pulling Martin forwards in every way he could, not wanting to feel anything else besides Martin, on top of him, around him. Martin’s erection pressed into Tim, thick and hot and heavy. 

“Martin,” whispered Tim, breaking apart from the kiss briefly, “Martin…”

“T-Tim?”

“Come on, come on. Second drawer down. I’ll move.”

Martin grunted, pulling himself up and reaching over to the nightstand. Tim missed the feeling of Martin on top of him, missed it terribly, but repositioned himself on the bed and waited. He heard the sound of a package ripping, of a tube popping open, and then Martin shifting his position on the bed until he was behind Tim. Tim gave a shuddering breath, angling his arse towards Martin. He felt Martin’s slick fingers tease around the outside of his hole, pressing against it but not in. He dipped his index finger in briefly, pulled it out, and then pressed it in again, working Tim open. Tim positively whined, the feeling of Martin’s finger inside him already making him feel so good. His fingers were so thick, so strong, so big like the rest of him.

“S-sorry,” came Martin’s voice, soft and gentle, his finger stilling, “if I--I mean, I’ve uh, never quite--”

“No,” groaned Tim, “n-no, fuck, shut up. Keep going, you--god, you feel so good.”

He could feel Martin smiling as Martin worked him open, now with two fingers. Tim swore, there were cocks that weren’t as big as Martin’s two fingers up inside of him, pressing against the walls of his hole and stretching him open. They were strong, hot, wet, sliding into his hole and widening it with a pleasurable burn. Tim groaned again, gripping the sheets. Martin pulled his fingers out, and Tim could hear him slicking up his cock, his beautiful, huge cock. Tim did his best to turn and look, his whole body shaking with anticipation. Martin, breathing heavily, knelt over Tim, spreading his hole out by pushing one of his arsecheeks back with one hand. Lifting himself up, Martin gingerly brought his cock to Tim’s hole, letting the head of it hover in front of it, not entering. It seemed precautionary at first, but Tim could feel Martin gently testing the give of it. 

“Martin,” growled Tim, gripping the sheets tightly and digging his feet into them, “Martin.” He was beyond want. He needed Martin’s cock inside of him, needed to feel his hole stretch and strain once Martin was inside of him. Tim’s cock was hot and beginning to throb again, stiff and sensitive between his legs. 

“Just teasing,” said Martin, a little too smugly, “you really want this, huh?”

“Y-yes--” Tim hissed the words, barely able to think above his cock growing heavy, his hole, demanding for Martin’s cock, so open and ready, “god, yes, Martin, you’re so thick, you’re so big, I--Martin, _please_. I need to feel you everywhere or I’ll go mad right here.”

“Don’t want that,” murmured Martin, leaning forwards to kiss the back of Tim’s neck. And finally, finally, he pressed his cock into Tim. 

It felt _so_ damn good. Martin’s cock was plenty thick and heavy and Tim could guess how it would feel inside of him. But actually feeling it was different. His cock was huge, stretching out his hole from the moment the length of it slid inside of him. With each of Martin’s thrusts, Tim felt it press a little further inside of him, and he moaned, moaned loudly, savoring how Martin’s cock felt taking up so much space inside of him, buried in his arse, full and heavy. 

He wasn’t used to this, feeling smaller, feeling held, feeling vulnerable, really. The ever-present feeling of Martin’s thighs, his arms, his chest, his belly. Martin's soft, delicate skin against his own, pressing it what felt like every part of Tim's body at once.

And his cock, god, his cock.

Tim felt Martin deep inside of him, thrusting and holding Tim in place. Tim moaned now, covered by Martin’s body and content to stay there. For a moment, Tim’s mind became almost empty, and he could only feel Martin’s warmth around him, the strength of his body holding him in place, the swell of his cock deep inside him, going a little further with each thrust. 

Tim’s own cock gave another pulse, and Tim bit his lip and moaned, so full of Martin he almost didn’t want to come, wanted to stay on the edge forever if it meant he got to feel like this. Then Martin thrusted again, and tightened his thighs around Tim and squeezed him, and Tim felt Martin’s cock twitch as it was, deep inside him and straining and stretching him even there. Tim couldn’t keep it back anymore, couldn’t fight it. As he felt Martin come inside of him, Tim finally let himself come as well, the orgasm knocking the remaining strength he had to keep himself held up by his arms and legs on the bed. 

Tim fell into the sheets, moaning as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm and Martin’s run their course through both of them. Martin whined, shakily lowering himself down on top of Tim with a heavy sigh. 

The two of them breathed heavily for a while. Martin didn’t seem to be bothered about his cock, softening inside of Tim, and frankly, Tim wasn’t either. They stayed in this position for a while, Tim enjoying the weight of Martin on top of him. Martin was warm and heavy, and beginning to drown out all of Tim’s senses. He felt Martin shift, moving enough to pull himself out and wrap the condom in some tissues. Tim blinked wearily, trying to convey with what little energy he had left that he needed Martin back on top of him. He rolled over, and that took enough out of him that it took some more heavy breathing to Tim to come down from it. His mind was hazy, his senses dull. Martin looked at him, and gave a little smile before climbing back on top of him, lazily hooking his arms around Tim. Tim felt Martin’s head on his chest, and his eyes fluttered close.

Martin shifted a little on top of him. “Was I alright?”

“You were incredible,” murmured Tim, running a hand through Martin’s hair, “more than that. You were you. I felt you everywhere. It was--like nothing else.”

Martin’s arms tightened around Tim. “Same over here. You’re pretty demanding, you know. It’s--um. Well. I like it.”

“I’m a man who knows what he wants. Now shush. It’s not every day I have sex so good it makes me want to pass out instantly.” 

“You don’t want to get cleaned up?”

“Can’t be bothered. ‘M too lazy. You?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then let’s call it a night.”

A small laugh from Martin, and then Martin resting his head on Tim’s chest with a snuffle. Tim was almost asleep, his mind and body warm and growing soft, when he heard Martin shift on top of him, as though moving his head and looking at something. Tim made a low annoyed noise, pushing Martin back down on top of him. If it was another spider, he was not going to dwell on it being right above his bed right now. 

“Oh my god. You weren’t kidding. That _is_ your name.”

Tim chuckled, low and breathy. “And it’s not getting turned off. Go to sleep.”

Martin’s head finally slid back down onto Tim’s chest, and Tim, finally, let himself succumb to total warmth and comfort. 


End file.
